Wheel love

MRD girls would give it all up for derby
By Hannah Vanderlan
2007-08-07
Morrigan McCarthy
Miss Creant sports a typical derby trophy for jammers - the hematoma.
Morrigan McCarthy
Maine Roller Derby's travel team, the Vacationland Vixens, prepares for a bout with Pioneer Vallery Roller Derby in Amherst, MA.
Morrigan McCarthy
Breezey and Punchy O'Guts warm up for a bout with the Cosmonaughties from Boston Derby Dames.
Punchy O’Guts races around the inside curve of the track on her green-wheeled roller skates. She looks like she was born to play roller derby — sturdy hips, broad shoulders, an array of menacing tattoos. A pack of women wearing helmets, kneepads and fishnet stockings trails behind her. Suddenly one of the women emerges and tries to pass her on the outside. Punchy nails her in the shoulder and the woman goes flying off the track.

“Roller Derby is fun! Girls hit each other!” booms the voice of the announcer, Patty O’Mean, who’s sitting at a card table near the track with a sling over her shoulder. A smattering of applause bounces off the walls of Howard’s Roller World in Topsham. This Saturday night in March is the first time many of the 300-and-some spectators scattered throughout the rink have seen roller derby. And from the bemused look on their faces, they don’t seem to know what to make of it. But the skaters of Maine Roller Derby, an amateur league of 28 women based in Portland, are engrossed in their game.

A shrill whistle blows and the skaters glide off the track for a quick break. Punchy’s team, the Port Authorities, huddles beneath a handmade scoreboard. The skaters’ uniforms are blue police shirts, black booty-shorts and black thigh-highs. The team manager, a lanky blond named Graceless Kelly, cradles a clipboard in one arm; the other rests on her slightly cocked hip. She glances at the clipboard, then up at the nine women crowded around her. She shouts their positions for the next round: “Goldie Headlocks, jammer. The Mom Bomb, pivot. Mainegler, inside. Vex, back. Punchy, outside.” Quickly turning to The Mom Bomb she adds, “You’ve got some penalties.”

There is always ample bumping, pushing and grabbing among the skaters on the track. Tonight the action is particularly heated between The Mom Bomb and Lois Blow — a short, stout powerhouse of a skater who’s a single mom and a hairstylist. With a grin on her face, The Mom Bomb looks at Graceless and replies, “That’s because I’m gonna punch Lois Blow in the f***ing face!”

Punchy turns toward the track but is stopped by the team mascot, who lifts the visor on her plastic police helmet and shouts, “Mom! Mom, can I have this lollipop?” The intense expression on Punchy’s freckled face softens as she looks down at her daughter, Winter. The pencil-thin 8-year-old with blond hair and a toothy smile is one of several kids who frequently watch their moms skate. Winter’s derby name, “Scrappy O’Guts,” is painted on the back of the blue police shirt that’s tucked into her black shorts. Punchy smiles at her and nods before sprinting onto the track.

Punchy is a 30-year-old single mom and journalist with spiky red hair and a knack for barreling people over. She discovered roller derby less than a year ago and was smitten with it right away. “I just like immediately became passionate about and fell in love with (roller derby) and can’t imagine my life without it,” she says.

Other women in the league echo Punchy’s sentiment. The Mom Bomb has said she’d leave her husband and child for derby. Her teammates aren’t sure if she’s kidding.

In addition to helmets and kneepads, skaters have padding on their elbows and wrists, and wear mouth-guards and leather roller skates with neon wheels. The opposing team, the Nautical Knockouts, wear uniforms of short white dresses, red ruffled panties and navy and white striped thigh-highs. In two minute intervals called “jams” the skaters race around an oval track. One skater (a “jammer) from each team tries to score points by lapping her opponents. The movement on the track is fast and loud and chaotic. The crowd, however, is fairly subdued.

Tonight is the first “bout,” or competition, between two Maine teams in Maine Roller Derby’s one-year history — an occasion these women have been striving for since they started skating together. But they face significant challenges to compete like this again. They are borrowing skaters from Boston and Providence tonight because there aren’t a sufficient number of skaters in the league to make two full teams. They don’t have a permanent place to practice and host bouts either. And it’s uncertain if the public, whose financial support the league depends on, is excited enough about roller derby to attend bouts consistently. Without more skaters, a venue and dedicated fans, the league might not last. But roller derby has become something these women refuse to live without.

Editor’s note: Since this story was completed, MRD has staged various fundraisers, recruited more members and secured the Portland Expo as a venue for three home bouts for the upcoming season.